Promise
by Lady Charity
Summary: Iceland becomes ill, but he refuses any help. Denmark and Norway won’t hear a word of it. But as Ice's sickness worsens, the Nordics realize they need to do everything in their power to keep him from falling.Icelandic Financial Crisis
1. Chapter 1

Iceland rubbed his eyes, but it didn't help a bit. His vision was still hazy and it certainly didn't help his growing headache. He rested his head in his hands, staring at the many unfinished documents sprawled on his desk. He didn't have time to wallow in fatigue. He picked up one of the papers from his economic leaders and scanned it thoroughly. He felt his stomach turn at the words. Iceland brushed his silver hair away from his eyes nervously as he let the news sink in. He could feel the blood in his face drain away.

That was a lot of numbers.

Debt certainly wasn't pretty.

He picked up his pen with fumbling fingers.

_BAM. BAM. BAM._

Iceland dropped his pen in shock, sending black ink droplets onto the paper. He growled and stood up abruptly. He immediately regretted the rash action, his head spun and he pressed his palms against his eyes.

Who in the world was at the door at this time? He glanced at the clock; it was ten thirty in the morning. He tried to remember if he arranged any meetings with anyone today. Nope, definitely not. Nevertheless, the constant, loud banging of the door continued downstairs. Iceland swallowed and made his way down the stairs. He threw open the front door, getting hit with a cold gust of wintry wind.

"He-e-ey, Iceland!"

No. It couldn't be.

"What. Are. You. Doing. Here?" Iceland growled.

Denmark entered the house without answering, stomping his feet on the doormat to rid his boots of snow. He flashed a grin at the youngest Nordic.

"Norge is coming sooner or later. I told him to meet me here," Denmark said lazily, kicking off his boots and jumping onto one of the ornate chairs in the sitting room.

Iceland swallowed down the urge to stamp hard on Denmark's feet. "Why, may I ask?" he said.

"What? We can't visit our little brother?" Denmark said.

"I'm not _your_ brother."

Denmark ignored the remark. His blue eyes studied Iceland's gray face. "You look horrible."

"Why thank you. It took me a week or so to look like this, but I think it was worth it."

"You've been like this for a week? Why don't you take a break or something?" Denmark commented.

"Did you come here to criticize my way of living?"

"No," said Denmark. "Got any food? I'm famished."

"There's hákarl," Iceland said shortly.

Denmark made a face. "That rotten shark meat? What do you want to do, poison me?"

"Alas, my schemes have been foiled. Back to the drawing board, then."

Denmark rolled his eyes. Iceland leaned on the doorway, closing his eyes. Denmark furrowed his eyebrows and leaned forward.

"Hey, you falling asleep on me?"

"You're boring enough, but unfortunately, not quiet enough."

Denmark teasingly kicked Iceland in the shin. Iceland stumbled back, glaring at the older man.

"Look who's a bright ray of sunshine," Denmark remarked.

A nasty retort almost slipped out of Iceland's mouth, but he bit it back. He felt a cough crawl up his throat and he tried to tighten his breath to prevent it from coming out. If Denmark found out he was sick, no doubt the teasing would be taken to another level.

"Are you breathing?" Denmark asked, frowning. Iceland clenched his teeth, shoving the cough down his throat and holding his breath. However, the need of oxygen overtook him and Iceland gasped for breath, releasing the hacking coughs from his throat.

Denmark got out of his seat as Iceland coughed violently. He awkwardly thumped Iceland's back, a little harder than he intended. "Come on, kid. Breathe."

_Should I breathe? I didn't think that was a good idea at first,_ Iceland thought sardonically, but he had no air to say it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and straightened up as if nothing happened.

"What's wrong with you?" Denmark asked bluntly.

"Too much essence of a Dane, I suppose. I heard it was hazardous for the health."

"Geez, if Norge sees you like this, he'll freak."

"He wouldn't have to see me like this if some idiotic Danish wasn't so impulsive."

"I wouldn't be so impulsive if you'd at least drop a call on me or something. For all I know, you could've been dead in your bed."

"What would you do if I really was dead in my bed?" Iceland muttered, heading towards the stairs.

"Invite Norway to come over and scare him, I guess. Hey, where are you going?"

"I actually still have work to do," Iceland shot back as he climbed towards the second floor. "And I need something for my headache."

"Do I really cause that much stress on you?" Denmark quipped.

Iceland steadied himself on the smooth banister. Funny, his legs felt rather shaky. His mouth was very dry, without a bit of saliva. There was a heavy pounding in his head and even though he rested it against the wall, it wouldn't leave. He suddenly felt extremely weak. He couldn't hear anything except his own severe pulse hammering in his ears. And then everything became nothing.

* * *

Denmark was following Iceland up the stairs when he noticed the young nation swaying. He thought nothing of it, passing it off as clumsiness. Then Iceland stopped in the middle of his tracks and leaned against the wall.

"Hey, Ice," Denmark said with uncertainty. "What's up?"

Iceland didn't respond. His grip on the banister slackened and Denmark knew with dread what would happen next. Iceland fell back and Denmark yelled out in horror, hurriedly caught him in his arms.

"Ice! Oh geez—Ice!" he cried. Iceland remained motionless. Denmark shifted Iceland into a more comfortable position, his mind nearly bursting.

"Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot," Denmark muttered, spinning in the spot, absolutely clueless on what to do. "Norge is going to kill me—Ice! Come on, buddy, wake up." He shook Iceland slightly. The younger nation's silver head lolled over Denmark's arm, showing no sign of waking up.

Without warning, the front door flung open, and Norway entered the house. He stared at Denmark on the stairs. Denmark could only stare back, carrying Iceland, wildly searching for an adequate response to this strange scene.

Norway's dull eyes suddenly sharpened into daggers. Denmark gritted his teeth.

"You." Norway said blankly.

"Uh, me?" Denmark said weakly.

Before he knew it, Norway kicked Denmark hard in the groin. Denmark snarled in pain and if Iceland wasn't in his arms, he probably dropped to the ground. Norway's fingers wrapped tightly around Denmark's collar and forced him closer.

"Watch it! I've got delicate cargo here!" Denmark snapped.

"What did you do to him?" Norway said, his voice strained with hidden fury.

"I didn't do anything! No—get away from me—I don't want you kicking me again!" Denmark scooted away from Norway's range.

"What do you think you're doing?" Norway hissed.

"Escaping you!"

"You're treating Iceland like a rag doll! _Why is he passed out_?"

"I don't know! I think he's sick or something, he said he had a headache and a major cough and he looked like shit—"

"You're useless." Norway swiftly took Iceland from Denmark. "He's got a fever. Really, Denmark, you should know that if someone's sick, you put them to bed or a couch or something, not just stand there."

"I wasn't just _standing_," contradicted Denmark hotly as Norway headed towards Iceland's bedroom. "We were going up the stairs, he just _fell down_ without warning, I caught him, and then you burst in and start attacking my vital regions."

Norway shuddered at the thought of what would happen if Denmark wasn't behind Iceland to catch him when he fell. He kicked open the bedroom door and laid Iceland on his bed. Iceland's face was extremely ashen and he had difficulty breathing. Norway felt a pit of fear in his stomach.

"What do you think?" Denmark said in a low voice. "Internal conflicts? Just a flu?"

Norway didn't speak. Denmark didn't exactly expect him to. Norway stared at his younger brother, his lips pursed.

"Anybody home?" Denmark said softly. He sighed when Norway refused to speak and he wandered towards Iceland's desk. The kid really did have a lot of work to do, by the looks of it. There were papers all over the place, scattered across the wood. Denmark was about to move on when a certain letter caught his eye. He cast a nervous glance at Iceland; the kid was passed out, he wouldn't know if Denmark took a peek or not. Denmark quietly lifted the paper from the desk and read it.

"Holy cow," Denmark murmured, running his hand through his spiky hair.

Norway looked up sharply. "What is it?"

"I uh, I think I know why Iceland's all beat up," Denmark said, waving the letter.

"What does it say?" Norway demanded testily.

"His major banks collapsed," said Denmark. "And they've got debts—geez, that's a lot of numbers. More than nine trillion—holy _shit—_more than nine trillion krónur of external debt!"

Norway stood up immediately. He snatched the letter from Denmark's hands and drank in its contents. His eyes widened and he felt a chill crawl up his skin.

"That's a shitload of money," Denmark added.

Norway threw the paper back into Denmark's face. He spun around and returned all his attention to Iceland, never leaving his side.

* * *

Dear goodness, his head hurt. Iceland desperately need a drink of water. Where was he, anyways? He couldn't remember where he last was. There was something about Denmark; surely that was a nightmare. He had enough trouble without the loud country hanging around.

His eyelids felt heavy. Heck, they felt like they were glued closed. Where was he? It felt warm here, and soft too. He could hear voices; that was strange. His leader was supposed to be away and those blasted economic advisors were supposed to be dealing with that mess they made. Iceland forced his eyes open, squinting in the bright light.

Denmark and Norway's faces were right in front of him.

"Oh, no," Iceland moaned.

"He's awake! Took him long enough!" Denmark's voice exclaimed.

"Thank you for pointing out the obvious," Norway said monotonously.

Iceland struggled to sit up, but Denmark's large hands shoved him back down onto the pillow.

"No moving, or you'll just pass out again."

"I passed out?" Iceland mumbled.

"How many fingers am I holding up, Ice?"

"He doesn't have a concussion, Denmark, he's just sick," Norway pointed out.

"Maybe he needs a couple spirits to set him right again."

"You're an idiot. He hasn't even reached the legal drinking age for his own government yet."

"The poor lamb."

Iceland groaned before coughing into his sheets. Not these two. Anyone but these two. Especially not put together under the same roof.

"Go home," he commanded.

"Hell, no," Denmark chortled.

"I'm serious."

"So are we."

"We?" Norway raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, 'we.' What, don't want to play housewife with me?" Denmark shot back.

"You're as helpful as a walrus. I can manage perfectly on my own, thanks," Norway retorted.

"_I_ can manage perfectly on my own as well," Iceland snapped.

"Like I'm going to leave you alone with Ice," Denmark said loudly. "Who knows what kind of things you'll do to him when you're all by yourselves?"

"You're vulgar," Norway exclaimed disgustedly.

"You—"

They were both interrupted by Iceland's violent coughing fit. He buried his head inside his blankets in attempts to muffle the coughs. Norway rubbed Iceland's back, trying to comfort his brother.

"Get him a glass of water," Denmark told Norway.

"Why don't you? I don't trust you. Look what happened when I left you and Ice alone."

"I _told_ you. I didn't do anything! He just fainted! It was involuntary!"

While the two nations were fighting amongst themselves, Iceland quietly slipped out of his bed. There was no time to waste. He couldn't spend his days in bed while debts piled up and Glintir was acting shady.

Bad idea. Right when his feet touched the floor, an overwhelming wave of horrible weakness washed over him. His head felt like it would fall off and he gripped tight on the edge of his bed, attempting to take in deep breaths without vomiting or coughing. Panic coursed through his nerves. Was the economic situation that severe?

"Oi. Get back here, you." Denmark grabbed Iceland's forearm and pulled him back into bed.

"I have things to do," Iceland protested.

"You think you can do it yourself?" Norway pointed out.

"Of course," Iceland said hotly.

"I don't know if you can," Denmark said. He threw the paper onto Iceland's lap. Iceland's violet eyes widened at the sight of it.

"Why must you snoop?" Iceland muttered.

Norway sat down on the bedside. "Why must you keep secrets?"

"I was going to fix it myself," Iceland sighed. He leaned against the headboard.

"You seriously think you can do this on your own?" Denmark said incredulously.

"Yes."

Denmark scoffed. "You're an idiot. Look at this mess. What happened?"

"I don't know!" Iceland cried. He felt a lump in his throat. "Too much happened! My banks become nationalized—economy drops—my people are livid! I usually let my leaders deal with finance but..." He felt tears of frustration in his eyes and became even more upset with himself. Goodness, what was wrong with him? Couldn't he keep his cool for one second? He buried his face in his hands and let out a muted shout of indignation. If he didn't feel so horrible he would punch out all his glass windows by now.

"Hey, kid, calm down," said Denmark genuinely. "Things happen all the time to everyone."

"But this is bad," Iceland mumbled. "My desk is piled with so much bad news."

Norway glanced over at the great stack of papers on Iceland's desk. He reached over to grab one of the papers. Iceland gasped in panic.

"Wait!" Iceland shouted. He tugged on Norway's sleeve to keep him from reaching the desk. "Don't read them—it's fine. Whatever. Nothing important."

Norway raised an eyebrow. "I'll have to find out sooner or later, won't I?"

"Yeah but—some of it's uh, different things," Iceland stammered. He cast a distressed glance at the forbidden papers on his desk, worrying about the possibilities if Norway read through all of them."Private. Shouldn't you guys go home?"

"Home? Are you kidding?" exclaimed Denmark. "We aren't going to leave you like this!"

Iceland's eyes grew wider and wider. "No. Don't tell me that you two are actually—"

"We're going to take care of you!" Denmark interrupted. He put an arm over Norway's shoulder. "Just think of us as your parents, Ice."

This wasn't good.

**My first multi-chapter Hetalia fanfiction! This is going to be based off of Iceland's economic crisis, where a lot happened. I will probably not stick to the chronological order of events in real life for the sake of a good story. It'll have some humorous aspects, but I did some research on this subject and from what I got, there's going to be some pretty serious conflicts as well. Please review! **


	2. Chapter 2

"You hungry, Ice?"

"Go away."

"Maybe you want a drink?"

"I can manage on my own."

"Your voice is all raspy."

"I don't know you."

Denmark sighed dramatically. "Then what _can _I do for you?"

"Leave me alone and let me work."

"Don't be stupid," Norway replied swiftly.

"Then at least let my puffin back in the room. I'm not contagious."

"You might not be, but he is. He might make you worse."

"That's ridiculous."

"You're talking to the paranoid older brother here."

"Let's clean up that desk, then," Denmark suggested.

"No," Iceland said hurriedly. He coughed and his voice became extremely brittle. "I mean—if you mess with it at all...it'll be unorganized..." His voice trailed off and died.

"Look at that, Norge. We can do anything we want and he won't be able to protest."

Iceland shook his head vigorously. He mouthed words but couldn't make a sound.

"Stop teasing him," Norway scolded. "Look at the state of him. He's too delicate."

Iceland indignantly mouthed, 'I'm not delicate.'

"Yes, you are," Norway contradicted to Iceland. "Come on. You can't even sit up or walk, let alone talk."

"Yeah, I bet if you even tried, you'd throw up," Denmark added.

Iceland glared at Denmark and Norway but didn't try to argue. They were probably right. And with just perfect timing, Iceland dissolved into a convulsive coughing fit. It was like someone was stabbing his throat over and over again; it hurt so much.

"Just try to get some sleep," Norway said, taking Denmark's elbow and dragging him to the door. "Denmark and I will leave you alone."

Iceland didn't say a word. He sank deeper into his blankets, every fiber aching or burning. Norway and Denmark slipped out of the bedroom.

"You don't have to be so tough on Iceland," Norway snapped when they were out of Iceland's hearing range. "If he wants to be left in peace and quiet, then let it be."

"I wasn't trying to be tough," Denmark whined. "Really, do you think everything I do is bad? I wanted to help him!"

"You do a horrible job at it," Norway grumbled as the two nations descended the stairs. "How you treated him when he was under your control, I have no idea."

"Oi, you were the one who left him with me," Denmark snapped. Norway stiffened. "I'm not the blame for everything."

"Shut up," Norway hissed. "Just shut up. I—I didn't have a choice."

"You always have a choice," Denmark shot at Norway. "You just didn't want to choose the other one."

Norway's pace quickened, leaving Denmark behind. Denmark crossed his arms, feeling a bitter pit of guilt inside of him. He wasn't trying to insult Norway, but he hated it when he was accused of being the bad guy.

"So...what are you doing now?" Denmark asked weakly, catching up quickly with Norway.

Norway strode towards the kitchen without saying a word. Denmark sighed, he supposed he deserved that.

Norway scanned the kitchen like a detective. He opened plates cupboards and the cutlery drawers. He squeezed the dishcloth, ran his finger through the kitchen sink, and even peeked inside the trash can. Denmark watched the scene, frowning with confusion.

"Okay, what are you doing? Stalking Ice?"

"Confirming suspicions," said Norway. "He hasn't eaten breakfast today. In fact, it doesn't seem he's been eating regular meals this whole week."

"And you know this how?"

"It's Saturday. He changes his trash every Sunday. There's barely any trash in here. The sink is as dry as a desert. His plates and utensils are even gathering dust."

"You _are_ a stalker," Denmark commented, aghast.

"I _know_ how Ice is like," Norway corrected. "Even after you took him away from me."

Denmark set his jaw but kept his thoughts to himself.

"Anyways, I would think Iceland would be hungry by now," Norway changed the subject.

"He must've not eaten for a reason," Denmark pointed out.

"Norwegian porridge would help him," said Norway, ignoring Denmark's reason. "It's helpful during sickness."

"Norwegian porridge. How is that any different from any other porridge?"

"It's _good._"

Denmark sighed. "Fine. Whatever. Tell me what to do and I'll do it."

"I'm not going to let you touch anything Iceland's going to eat."

"I want to help out also!"

"I don't want you to help. It's so simple—too many people will just make it worse."

"I'm going to help. Now you tell me what to do."

Norway rolled his eyes at Denmark's stubbornness. "Fine. It'll be a hot rice porridge."

Denmark grimaced. "Hot porridge? Why hot? Why not cold?"

"Why cold?"

"Hot porridge will make his throat worse. It hurts right now. Cold porridge will cool it down and soothe it."

"Cold porridge would chill his bones and make his fever worse. Hot porridge is softer on the stomach."

"Hot porridge burns tongues."

"Look—if you want to help, I get to choose the porridge."

Denmark sighed but consented.

"First, get four cups of milk," Norway ordered.

"Four?" Denmark wrinkled his nose. "Iceland couldn't probably even eat one cup."

"Might as well make enough for the two of us for lunch, right?" Norway said.

"Fine." Denmark wrenched open the refrigerator. "There's no cow milk. Can't we just put water?"

"No," Norway snapped. "There's already water in the recipe."

"Why the heck do you need both milk and water? What do you want to do, make flood the toilet?"

"Why in the world are you so vulgar?" Norway snarled.

"It makes sense, doesn't it?"

"No, it doesn't! Milk. Water. Rice. Seasoning. That's the recipe."

"But we don't have cow milk!"

Norway stomped to Denmark's side. "What are you talking about? There's milk!"

"That's not milk! That's rice milk!"

"Would you mind repeating that name again, dear?"

"No! Rice—oh. Wait—since when did rice have milk?"

Norway groaned and snatched the rice milk from the fridge, cursing to himself.

"Now boil the rice and water," Norway dictated. He looked at Denmark with his wide, blue eyes as if he was talking to a two-year-old. "Do you think you can do that, Denmark?"

"Of course!" Denmark exclaimed, obviously missing the sarcasm in Norway's voice. He threw the water and the rice into a pot and set it on the stove. He stood there, staring at the mixture.

"Denmark. An important part of cooking is to turn on the stove."

"Oh yeah!"

After nearly three retries to make the porridge in two and a half hours, Norway and Denmark finally successfully made the porridge. Norway wiped sweat from his brow, his voice hoarse after snapping at Denmark for being too loud or forgetting to turn off the stove when he finished or spilling milk.

It was finally finished. Norway couldn't help but glow with pride when he brought a steaming bowl up to Iceland's bedroom. Denmark tailed after Norway, sucking at the burns he acquired on his hand.

"Iceland?" Norway knocked softly on the door. "Hey...we're coming in."

There was no sound behind the door. Norway opened the door slowly. Iceland seemed to be in an even worse shape than earlier. His face was very gray and dotted with sweat; his silver hair clung to his face. His thin body was curled up in a ball under the thick sheets, wracked with pain. There was vomit in the wastebasket right beside him. Norway rushed to Iceland's side, nearly spilling the porridge.

"Iceland, how are you?" Norway asked, his voice thick with worry.

Iceland mumbled inaudibly. Norway gently brushed silver strands of hair from Iceland's face.

"Did you sleep at all?"

Iceland shook his head.

"Was it because of Denmark? He was extremely obnoxious, after all."

Iceland shook his head and winced when another bout of extreme headaches overtook him.

"Do you feel up to eating anything?" Norway asked quietly.

Iceland cast a sidelong glance at the steaming porridge. He sighed and closed his eyes.

"It's okay if you can't," Norway said quickly. "I mean, I understand. You probably can't stomach a whole lot right now." He glimpsed at the wastebasket next to his feet. He felt disappointment pulse in the back of his mind.

"I'm sorry," Iceland croaked with whatever voice he had left. "Must've been a lot of trouble."

"Of course not," Norway said quickly. Denmark stifled a chuckle behind his gloved hand. "No trouble at all." Meanwhile, he hid his porridge stains on his jacket from view. "You should really try to get some rest."

"I can't," Iceland mumbled. He didn't have to say anything, but Norway knew it was because Iceland was in too much pain to sleep. Norway pursed his lips and ran his index finger across Iceland's forehead.

"Just close your eyes; I'll help," Norway murmured. Iceland bit his lip before finally closing his eyes. Norway stroked Iceland's pale hair, singing softly.

"_Sleep you now, oh child of mine  
Sleep you in your manger  
Sleep while winter winds will whine  
Sleep you safe from danger..._"

Denmark leaned on the doorway, staring at the ground and listening to Norway's gentle singing. His voice was far from a songbird's; it was brittle and raspy, but there was something soothing about it that made all his surroundings soft and sweet.

"_Sleep you when the dark ice groans  
Frost and fire nearing."_

Iceland choked on his own coughs, his throat burning. Norway shushed him, his eyes softening; a rare sight.

"_Sleep you when the silence moans  
Sleep you with no fearing..."_

Denmark vaguely wondered that if he was in Iceland's place, sick and crabby, if Denmark would treat him the same way. He couldn't help but conclude that Norway probably wouldn't be as tender towards him as he was to his little brother and felt a hint of jealousy inside of him.

"_Sleep you well and sleep you long  
For life will leave you weary  
Sleep you still and sleep you strong  
'Til you no longer hear me."_

Iceland blearily blinked up at Norway, calmness suppressing his discomfort. Norway smoothed down Iceland's hair as the younger nation slowly drifted away from reality into the ocean of uneasy sleep.

"_'Til you no longer hear me,_" Norway whispered.

He slowly stood up, barely making any sound. He crept out of the bedroom, closing the door as silently as he could. He and Denmark stood in silence outside Iceland's bedroom for a while. Norway stared at the ground, his hand still gripping tightly on the doorknob. He finally let out a sigh and leaned against the wall before sliding down to the ground like a defeated warrior.

"What's up?" Denmark asked in a hushed voice.

Norway continued staring at the white carpet as if Denmark didn't exist. Denmark plopped down next to Norway.

"Hey, come on. I know that face. You're worried and contemplating."

"Isn't it obvious?" Norway blurted out, his normally hollow voice now filled to the brim with anxiety. "He can't even sleep peacefully; he's that sick. It looks like he can just keel over and die any moment. How bad is this economy crash? Is it bad enough that he—he can—?"

"Whoah, slow down there, Norge," Denmark interrupted. Norway quieted and glared at the pale wall. Denmark put a hand on Norway's shoulder and gripped it tightly. "You think we all are going to give up that easily? It'll be a synch; all countries go through this sort of stuff all the time. I mean, remember America? Recessions and depressions piled up on top of each other and he's still going strong."

Norway drew his knees to his chest. Denmark ruffled his flaxen hair.

"Besides, we can take good care of him, right?" Denmark said cheerily. "I mean, we can make porridge and everything. We're not bad mothers."

Norway groaned inwardly but a light smile graced his features.

"You're right, I suppose," Norway said.

"Of course I am! I'm Denmark! I'm never wrong!" Denmark grinned.

However, something deep inside Denmark whispered another possibility inside of him.

Iceland really was in horrible shape, after all. This wasn't going to be easy.__

**I searched up different porridge recipes for different Nordic countries. Though the countries are different, the recipes are relatively the same. **

**Norway is singing a song called 'Icelandic Lullaby' to Iceland. It was written by a Norwegian singer. Why a Norwegian would write an Icelandic lullaby is unknown to me. I suppose it supports the whole Norway/Iceland shipping.**


	3. Chapter 3

"...not to mention that you'll get homesick."

"Nonsense! I'm not the type to get homesick!"

"I suggest you stop trying to get us to go home, Iceland. It won't work."

Iceland sighed with defeat. "I can't believe you two stayed here for so long."

"What? Do you think we're heartless beings without an ounce of sympathy or worry?" Denmark joked.

"No, but you two should seriously go home."

"Iceland, listen to me," Norway said firmly. "You can't do this on your own. You _need_ help. Your people need help. You aren't going to deprive them of it, are you?"

"America managed fine with his Great Depression in the thirties," Iceland pointed out. "He didn't have _that_ much outside help."

"He went to war," reminded Denmark.

"But what would happen to your people?" Iceland exclaimed, his voice as hoarse as sandpaper. "If you hang around here too much, then your government and people might get into harm."

"They are in good shape," Norway assured Iceland. Denmark was busy gathering Iceland's askew papers into a neat pile on his desk. "It won't hurt for us to be here."

"Yo, Ice, you've got mail," Denmark called out, holding an envelope between two fingers. "Your boss sent you something."

"Give it to me," Iceland said quickly. Denmark flung the envelope to Iceland like a Frisbee. Iceland snatched it from the air and tore open the envelope. His face grew more and more anxious as he read deeper into the letter.

"What's wrong?" Norway asked sharply.

"My boss says that Russia and his leader are coming over," Iceland muttered.

Norway's eyebrows furrowed. Denmark had a countenance of surprise.

"What for?" Denmark asked.

"They're going to talk," Iceland said bluntly.

"Really? I thought they were just going to have a Tetris party. Talk about what?"

"Apparently, Russia wants to help me."

Norway bit his lip. "Why?"

"Because I'm in a pretty bad crisis, I suppose."

"I meant, why would he choose to do it?"

Iceland shrugged. "I don't know. But my leader sounds pretty enthusiastic about it."

Norway crossed his arms and bit the inside of his cheek. Denmark fiddled uncomfortably with the loose threads in Iceland's blankets.

"It doesn't sound like Russia to just shower people with generosity to show the goodness in his heart," said Norway. "Surely there's a catch?"

"But I haven't got much to give," Iceland said. "I mean, if he expected money from me, he's looking in the completely wrong place."

"That's what worries me," Norway confessed. "He honestly doesn't strike me as a Good Samaritan."

"Maybe he would want you to become one with him," Denmark suggested. "I mean, sure, the whole crazy phase of absorbing everyone into communism has sort of passed, but I wouldn't be surprised if he still wanted a couple buddies around. Maybe he'll help you and in exchange, you'll have to be part of him."

"Never," Norway said quickly. Iceland cast a bemused glance at his brother. Norway reddened and quickly looked down.

"I don't want to see you in someone else's hands again, that's all," Norway said quietly. "You only gained your independence about sixty years ago. You can't just give it up now."

"I know," Iceland sighed. He stared down at his bony hands. "But my people are in trouble. I can't just leave them in poverty."

"There are other ways," Norway said decisively. "The other Nordics are here for you. I—" Norway was suddenly struck with inspiration. "I can take you in, even! We were always sort of your bridge to Europe—that would work, wouldn't it?"

"I—don't know," Iceland said slowly. He shifted uncomfortably in his bed. "It sounds good but—"

Denmark may not be as close to Iceland as Norway was, but he could sort of tell what Iceland was thinking. The idea was tempting and practical, but at the same time Iceland wanted to stay independent. He had worked so hard for it.

"When do you have to meet Russia and his boss, anyways?" Denmark asked.

"In a couple days," Iceland answered. He coughed into the letter, grimacing at the phlegm before crumpling it into a ball and throwing it into the wastebasket.

"I don't trust him," Norway repeated his thoughts.

"I know you don't," said Iceland. "But if it helps my people, then I'll have to consider it."

Norway stiffened with worry but said nothing.

* * *

Denmark knocked on Iceland's front door, shivering from the cold. When Russia and his leader came, Norway and Denmark weren't allowed to stay around because all matters discussed between two separate nations should be 'kept secret and confidential to assure privacy.' Denmark returned to his home to make sure things were running smoothly, but Norway refused to leave Iceland's side. From what Denmark heard, it took Russia to drag Norway from Iceland's bedroom and lock him into a solitary room before the meeting. That certainly deducted more points from Norway's depleting respect for Russia.

The door swung open Denmark hurried inside. He brushed the snow off his boots, blowing warm air into his hands.

"You're here earlier than I thought you would," commented Norway.

"How was the meeting?" Denmark asked.

"I wouldn't know. I wasn't there," Norway said sourly. "But apparently it was up in Iceland's room because he didn't have the strength to even stand."

"How's he feeling?" questioned the Dane.

Norway shut the front door with a resounding thud. "Worse."

"Details, please."

"He can't sleep at all. He throws up practically five times in three hours even when he barely eats anything. Heck, he doesn't even have the stomach to hold down a drink. His fever is burning him up and he's completely sore everywhere." Norway anxiously clenched and unclenched his fists. "He looks so much thinner too. I think—I think it's because so many of his people are moving away."

"Where are they going?" Denmark cried.

"To—" Norway quieted immediately. He bashfully stared at his feet. He licked his lips and finally spoke again. "To my place." His voice dripped with guilt.

"It's not your fault," Denmark immediately responded. "No one has control over that."

"I know that," Norway said swiftly, but Denmark could hear the hint of doubt in his words.

"So…what was decided?"

"I don't know if anything was decided just yet," Norway said as the two nations went upstairs. "They talked about what would happen…but Iceland's leader hasn't confirmed anything yet."

"Did Russia demand…you know?"

"I don't know. Afterwards, Iceland was too exhausted to speak so I didn't badger him."

"What if he did?" Denmark asked. "What would Iceland do?"

Norway closed his eyes. "I won't let it happen."

"But Iceland could get help."

"But then he will be in chains again!" Norway cried. "I don't want to be separated from him anymore! I already promised him that!"

Denmark backed away in surprise. "Promise? What do you mean?"

Norway recoiled from his outburst. "Nothing. I said nothing."

Denmark shrugged good-naturedly and rapped on the door. "Ice? Yo, Ice, we're coming in."

He cracked open the door. The bedroom was dark; the curtains were drawn so no sunlight could slip inside. The room felt hot and stuffy and was thick with the smell of illness. Denmark tentatively sat down by Iceland's side. He gingerly put a hand over the younger nation's forehead and suppressed a wince. The fever was certainly very high.

Iceland cleared his throat. "Hey, Denmark."

The boy really was sick. He didn't even greet Denmark with an insult this time.

"You need anything, Ice?" Denmark asked.

Iceland closed his eyes. Denmark figured that was a 'no.'

"How was the meeting? Was Russia nice to you?"

Iceland nodded. Denmark raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"You didn't get some creepy aura from him or anything?"

A shake of the head.

"No 'kolkolkols?'"

Another shake. Denmark gave a low whistle. Norway sat down next to his fellow Nordics. He continuously ran his thumb across Iceland's bony knuckles.

"What did the bosses decide?"

Iceland licked his chapped lips. "Nothing, yet," he mumbled. "Russia offered a good loan. He was really gentle with me, didn't try anything. Though I can't help but feel suspicious…"

"That's understandable," assured Norway.

"Do you know what your boss wants?" Denmark pressed on. He knew he shouldn't be so interrogative but he wanted to know.

"I don't know about my boss," Iceland admitted. "But I'm not sure if I want to do it. I'm worried what Russia would want—" Iceland groaned and put his hand over his eyes. "I feel so selfish. What about my people? They need help more than nationalistic pride right now."

"It's okay," Norway said. "Either way, we'll help you. I'll help you."

Iceland stayed still for a moment. He lifted his hand from his face and it almost seemed as if he was going to reach out towards the ever-present papers on the desk, but he hesitated and let his hand drop back down to the bed.

"Do you need any of these papers?" Norway asked, gesturing towards the desk.

Iceland opened his mouth, but eventually closed it and shook his head. He let out a defeated sigh.

"I just—I need to think a bit," Iceland said.

"That's fine," said Denmark. "C'mon, Norge. We'll be downstairs."

Iceland didn't appear to have heard him. He stared at the ceiling with blank eyes, lost in thoughts and illness. Denmark and Norway quietly exited the room.

"I don't want him to join up with Russia," Norway said immediately after Denmark closed the door.

"I know you don't," Denmark replied simply.

"I hope he doesn't," Norway continued.

"That's not our choice. That's his."

"I know," scowled Norway. "But if I could give advice to him as a wise older brother—"

"Iceland's right, Norge," Denmark cut short. "If his economy is in really bad shape, he'll need that help."

"He can get help from me," Norway argued.

"Well…Russia has more to offer. Come on, Norge, think about it. More than nine trillion krónur of external debt. I don't even know if that's all of it."

Norway clenched his teeth. He took in a deep breath.

"I know," Norway said in a tight voice. "But I want to try."

* * *

Well, life was just a sweet bowl of licorice, wasn't it?

Iceland stared at his desk. It haunted him like the soul of a vengeful enemy, filling Iceland with bitter-tasting guilt. He raised his hand up so he could see; the bones in his hand protruded more than normal. His people were losing jobs. They were leaving him to who knows where.

Why did Norway have to be so good to him? It made guilt taste even worse.

He'll spill the beans. Iceland had to. He hated living a lie, especially if it hurt his brother. He couldn't keep this up anymore. Hang the bank. Hang the money. Hang Glitnir. This was too much. Iceland couldn't take the pressure, the shame, the feeling of being a soft pushover. His bankers and economists may hate him for it (perhaps they already hate him) but he was through with it all.

He promised Norway he wouldn't lie to him. Iceland intended to keep it.

**Iceland at first considered sharing currency with Norway because Norway always protected Iceland. **

**Also, thousands of Icelandic people moved away from Iceland to Norway or Denmark because Iceland was losing jobs due to the financial crisis. **

**When Russia first offered help to Iceland, people became suspicious as to why Russia would try to give Iceland a hand. Direct quote from news article: "Some analysts have questioned Russia's motives behind a possible deal and what price Moscow might extract from Iceland, a member of the NATO military alliance. Russia has criticized NATO expansion to its borders, seeing it as a security threat."**

**Hmm, Hetalia does seem to stick to the facts a lot more than one would think. **


	4. Chapter 4

It hurt. Every part of his body hurt. His stomach hurt. His head hurt. His muscles hurt. His throat hurt. Nations couldn't possibly die from a financial crisis, could they? That would be a pitiful death. Ancient Rome died a tragic, distinguished death. Holy Roman Empire died in war. Prussia…well, Iceland wasn't exactly sure what happened to Prussia, but he doubted that the old powerful state was dead from a failed economy, if Prussia was even dead in the first place. Iceland didn't want to be the nation that died because of money problems.

How long had it been since Russia came to his house? Hours? Days? Iceland settled on days; he remembered seeing the thin strip of sunlight underneath the curtains fade into darkness every now and then. Unless he imagined it. He could barely turn his head anymore.

Here came another bout of pain. It was the sharp sort of ache, the kind that forced you not to move in fear that you would tear something inside. Iceland groaned, desperate to fall asleep or become unconscious just to avoid the pain. He had the sinking feeling when he remembered that even if he did drift away, he would have to awaken to the same terrible sickness. He couldn't be like Sleeping Beauty, lifeless as time passed and problems faded into smudges.

What he supposed to do?

He could say yes.

_He could say no._

He could get help.

_What if it all backfires?_

There wouldn't be any more pain.

_It might still not be enough._

His people needed support.

_Norway wouldn't like it._

Norway would understand.

_Russia might ask for too much in return._

**What was the right thing to do?**

His boss was waiting for an answer from him. Iceland reached out towards the nightstand where a black phone rested. He fumbled his way through the numbers and buttons and finally called up his boss's personal cell phone. The monotonous tone signaled the ringing phone on the other side. Iceland sighed; there was no turning back now. There wasn't even a guarantee that this choice would put an end to his suffering, but he needed _something._

He heard a click on the other end. Iceland braced himself.

"I'm glad you called," his boss's voice informed Iceland. "So—"

"Do it," Iceland said swiftly.

He dropped the phone back on its receiver.

* * *

"So uh, what did you want to talk about?"

It was a surprise for both Denmark and Norway when Iceland requested their presence. Normally they would barge in on their own. It was an even more of a surprise when they found him sitting up, clutching a stack of papers. Norway, being the older brother figure, hurriedly shoved Iceland back down onto his pillow, and it took much hassle to calm everyone down.

Norway put his hand on Iceland's forehead. His facial expressions didn't change, but in his eyes sparked worry. His hand was cold and soothing on Iceland's sickly skin.

"Still a high fever," Norway mumbled, mostly to himself than anyone else.

"I figured," Iceland answered in a crackling voice. He became rigid when a sharp pain ran through his head.

"Are you feeling any better?" Norway inquired.

"I will be," Iceland said. Norway tilted his head.

"What do you mean?"

Iceland exhaled deeply. "I'm taking Russia's offer."

Norway didn't make any movement. Denmark didn't even bother hiding his surprise. He nearly fell out of his chair.

"Really?" Denmark couldn't help but say as he regained his balance. Iceland raised an eyebrow at Denmark. "Okay, okay, that was a stupid question. I'm just…shocked."

"I know you are," Iceland said quietly. He glanced at Norway, who still did not make a sound or any movement. He waited—_urged_—Norway to have some sort of reaction.

"So does that mean—do you have to uh, do anything for him?" Denmark asked.

"I don't think so," said Iceland. "Russia said nothing about it. I've read the contract through and through; I can't find any loopholes or underlying messages."

"It's risky business," Denmark muttered.

"I know, I know," Iceland moaned, nearly crumpling the papers. "But what can I do? You two are right; I really need all the help I can get. I can't—I can't even reach my own desk from here. I had to get the puffin to fly the papers over to me!" Iceland couldn't believe how useless he felt. He couldn't even get out of his damn bed.

"Are you disappointed?" he asked softly.

Norway immediately awoke from his daze and shook his head vigorously.

"Of course not," Norway insisted. "I mean—he hasn't tried to take over you or anything. It seems safe, doesn't it? You need all the help you can get."

Iceland stared at Norway with disbelieving violet eyes. Norway took Iceland's hand.

"Listen—this doesn't change anything between us. Maybe Russia really does want to help you out of the goodness of his heart. Either way, I'm going to take care of you."

To both Norway and Denmark's utmost surprise, Iceland slipped his hand out of Norway's and clutched his hair. He bit down on his lip as if barring a scream from breaking through his lips.

"I don't understand," he choked out, "why you're so good to me. I-it's not fair for you. Even after—" He swallowed hard, taking in deep breaths. Norway could only gape at his younger brother, absolutely puzzled.

"What are you talking about?" Denmark blurted out.

Iceland's eyes were hollow. After a moment, he finally shoved the papers into Norway's hands. Norway's eyebrows shot up his forehead in surprise as he absentmindedly straightened out the papers. Iceland wouldn't look at him. He stared down at empty spaces. There was a paper cut on one of his hands; a thin, red thread between the thumb and index finger. Norway, puzzled, read through the papers.

As Norway scanned the documents, his frown grew deeper and deeper. Denmark was bursting with curiosity. What was on the papers? Why did it concern Norway? Whatever was written down seemed serious; Norway looked distressed while Iceland wouldn't look at anything; he stared at nothingness.

Finally, Norway folded up the papers. His eyes were blank; it wasn't an unusual sight, but Denmark felt chills go down his spine at the sight of them. There was something unrecognizable about them. The three nations remained frozen in their spots, silent as the grave.

Norway swiftly jerked the bedroom door open. He moved like fluid. He swept out of the room, shutting the door quickly behind him.

Iceland drew his knees to his chest and gave a shaky, heartbreaking sigh.

Denmark couldn't have been any more confused.

**Okay, so what really happened to Prussia anyways? Considering he doesn't exist anymore, is he technically dead? Or hiding? I heard that he was camping in a basement somewhere.**


	5. Chapter 5

Denmark grabbed Iceland's wrist and shook him forcefully. It was so thin in Denmark's hand that it felt like it was going to snap.

"What's going on, Ice?"

Iceland swallowed and licked his lips. He put a hand over his eyes and groaned.

"Ice, I'm hanging off a cliff here. What happened?"

"Glitnir," Iceland blurted out. "It's Glitnir."

"Your bank?" Denmark said, confused. Glitnir was one of Iceland's three major banks. "What about it?"

"It was an agent for Eksportfinans, Norway's export credit agency," Iceland continued in a shaky voice. "Glitnir administered loans to several companies but…" Iceland coughed into his fist and struggled to continue on, "…but when the loans were paid off early by borrowers, Glitnir kept the cash and—and stole from Eksportfinans." Iceland spat into his wastebasket. "They took their money—God, you won't be able to imagine how much they took!"

"But you weren't part of it!" Denmark pointed out. "That's Glitnir's problem! Your economists' problem! Not yours—you didn't choose to cheat off Norge!"

"But—" Another spat into the wastebasket. "I knew about it." Iceland brushed back ashen hair from his face. "I k-knew about it and didn't tell him."

Denmark sat back down and finally let go of Iceland's wrist. Iceland let his hand drop limply to his side.

"I knew about it but I chose to not tell him the truth. I was—I was _scared_ of telling the truth! I didn't like it." He turned quickly to Denmark, his glazed eyes desperate. "I didn't want to do it one bit—I'd rather shoot myself in the stomach than cheat off of Norway and steal his money, but I could never bring myself to tell him. I don't know why—I'm such an idiot—" His voice ran thin and Iceland seemed to choke on his frustration. He ran his fingers through his hair; it now became a habit of his whenever he was distraught.

"Do you know how long it's been going on?" Iceland cried. "Since 2006. Since 2006 I was too much of a coward or a—I don't even know the word for it—to say anything to Norway. I helped _steal_ from Norway! It's not that I want to protect Glitnir or anything—I can't _stand_ the boss of that bank—but I didn't say a word about it until now. I _had_ to tell him now—I don't c-care what happens to Glitnir anymore—it's already a mess—"

Iceland's eyes widened and he immediately grabbed the wastebasket and retched. Denmark rubbed his back in attempts to comfort the young nation as he heaved for air and hurled. When Iceland finished, he placed back the wastebasket and slid out of bed.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" Denmark demanded.

"I've got t-to find Norway," Iceland said, leaning on the wall to keep his balance. "I need to apologize—"

"Ice. Do I have to slap some sense into you?" Denmark said, tailing the smaller nation. "You can't even walk. At least let me carry you—okay, never mind." The look on Iceland's face was good enough to stop Denmark.

Iceland fumbled with the doorknob. Just as he turned the doorknob the door suddenly slammed against his face and sent him crashing into the wall. Norway stood surprised on the other side of the door, his hand on the doorknob also. Denmark gave a shout when Iceland fell to the ground, clutching his head.

"Geez, Norge, could you push the door any harder?" Denmark said, rushing to Iceland's side. "Hey, kid, are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine," Iceland said hazily, sitting up. "Just a little hit in the head, is all." His violet eyes flickered up to Norway and he immediately remembered what he was trying to do. He crawled onto his knees.

"Norway—listen—" His voice grew softer. Norway made no sign of moving or speaking. "I understand if you're mad at me. You can hate me or be angry at me or anything—I just want you to know that I'm so—so sorry about Glitnir." Iceland bowed his head low in shame. His voice was hoarse and it crackled like burning kindling. "I'm just as much to blame as my bank. I didn't say anything to you. I know that I was bad for keeping it from you." He paused for a moment to cough. When he finally had enough air he continued on quickly. "I'll repay you, don't worry. You'll be the first debts we repay and even double—"

Before Iceland could say another word, Norway scooped Iceland off the ground. Denmark could see the complete surprise on Iceland's face when Norway carried him to the bed. Iceland was about to speak, but Norway silenced him by placing a finger on the young nation's lips.

"I get to talk now," Norway said resolutely. Iceland's lips pulled into a thin line but he nodded. Norway drew back his hand and kneeled next to the bed.

"I admit it," said Norway. "I was disappointed. Disappointed and rather hurt." Iceland's eyes filled with guilt and Norway pressed on. "I didn't like what Glitnir did. I didn't like what you did either, but that will never—_ever_ mean that I hate you."

"I broke my promise, though," Iceland pointed out. "I promised I wouldn't lie to you and—well—"

"I forgive you," Norway said gently. "And that doesn't mean I will break my promises. Look at me." Iceland timidly glanced up into Norway's eyes. "Don't be ashamed anymore. I'm going to make you another promise besides the other one. Besides my promise that I won't ever leave you." Norway took Iceland's hand and squeezed it tight. "I vow to help you get out of this crisis, Iceland. I won't leave you to fall; I will do everything to help you."

Iceland gazed at Norway, awestruck. "Why, though?" he whispered. "After everything—why do you do this?"

Norway ruffled Iceland's hair. "You're my little brother, Ice. I love you."

Iceland lowered his eyes, his hollow cheeks tinged with pink embarrassment.

"Isn't there any way I could repay you?" Iceland asked.

"I've got a way," Denmark piped up. He bent over and whispered something in Norway's ears. To Iceland's surprise, Norway's eyes lit up with agreement.

"Surprisingly, Denmark, for once I actually agree with your idea," said Norway.

"What is it?" Iceland asked, both curious and wary.

"You," Norway said, smirking slightly, "have to call me 'onii-chan' from now on."

Iceland could only stare at Norway.

"You don't want money?" he said, aghast.

"Nope."

"More whaling areas?"

"No."

"Servitude?"

Denmark laughed out loud. "You already heard it, Ice. He's got a request and that's the only one."

Iceland squirmed uncomfortably, his cheeks now a deep red. He looked like a doll with his red blush on his white face. He swallowed down his pride.

"Thank you, onii-chan," Iceland mumbled.

Norway chuckled and kissed Iceland on the cheek.

**This is the most yaoi-related work you will ever get out of me -.-**

**Though I wouldn't consider this yaoi. I just really, really like brotherly fluff. **

**I can sort of relate to Iceland. I don't know about you guys, but when I find myself in a situation where I can tattle-tale, whether the issue is really serious or minor, whether I like the people or they annoy the heck out of me, I just can't bring myself to tell on them. No idea why; I guess I have some inner paranoia that I will get in trouble for it or something. Maybe it's because I'm socially awkward. Who knows? **

**Somewhere in early October of 2008, Norwegian company Eksportfinans blamed Iceland's major bank Glitnir for embezzlement. Apparently Glitnir didn't pay Eksportfinans all the money that Eksportfinans earned and that sort of contributed to Iceland's huge debt. **

**But even with that in mind, (and I quote from a news article) "Nordic prime ministers, after meeting in Helsinki, Finland, vowed to assist Iceland recover from its financial crisis." Norway and Denmark gave Iceland about 200 million euros each, and later Norway lent Iceland 1.5 billion to prop up its economy, along with Sweden and Denmark. **

**The Nordics are so darn nice to each other~ **

**Thanks for reading and sticking with this story! Please review~**


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